Fireflies in December (2 page)

“Just wait till we go swimmin’,” I told her. “I’ll find some critter to stick down Buddy Pernell’s knickers. He’s the one leadin’ the boys in the spittin’.”

“You best be careful. Them boys might do somethin’ to hurt you back.”

“I ain’t scared of them,” I lied. “Besides, they got it comin’.”

Gemma shook her head and grabbed a pair of Daddy’s socks to hang on the line. “You’re stubborn as a mule, Jessie.”

I figured she was right, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of hearing me say it. Instead, I rejoined the party, grabbed a piece of cake, and stood by watching the boys scuff about with each other, playing some kind of roughhouse tag. The other girls stood around watching the boys, giggling over how cute this one was and how strong that one was. I couldn’t figure them out.

“All that fussin’ over boys,” I said through a mouthful of frosting. “If you girls had any smarts, you’d be playin’ tag right along with ’em.”

“Why don’t you?” Ginny Lee Kidrey asked.

“I’m eatin’. Ain’t no reason to stuff down cake when I can play tag anytime I want.”

“You’re just a tomboy, Jessie Lassiter,” said Dolly Watson, who always wore dresses and perfume that smelled like dead roses. “What do you know about boys?”

“Enough to know that they ain’t worth wastin’ time on.”

The girls turned their noses up at me—all but Ginny Lee, who was the only real friend I had outside of Gemma, and even she had started to become more like the other girls of late.

The only reason I even had those other children at the party was because Momma insisted on it. She liked entertaining guests, but in our parts we didn’t have much chance to entertain, and she took every chance she got. So every year I had to invite the kids from school to interrupt my summer vacation and celebrate my June birthday with a party. The only thing I ever liked about those parties was the food. I would have been satisfied to spend my birthday having boiled corn with Gemma.

Buddy Pernell stopped in front of me and tugged at my braid. “Still stuffin’ your face?” he asked with a smirk. “Don’t you like to do nothin’ but eat?”

Knowing my short temper, all the boys loved to tease me just to see how much they could rile me. I responded to Buddy in my usual way. “I just like standin’ here watchin’ you boys beat each other up. And besides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with eatin’.”

“There is if it makes you fat.”

“I ain’t fat!”

“You keep eatin’ like that and you’ll be fat as your momma.”

Now, my momma wasn’t fat. I knew that as well as I knew that Buddy Pernell’s momma was. But it didn’t matter. True or not, he’d insulted my momma, and it took me no time at all to react by shoving what was left of my cake right into Buddy’s face, making extra sure to push upward so the frosting would fill his freckled nose.

Buddy wasn’t so brave then. He began clawing at his face like I’d thrown acid on it, crying something fierce about not being able to breathe.

Momma ran over, hysterical, simultaneously scolding me and coddling Buddy. I responded to her by saying I’d never heard of anyone suffocating on cake before, but she didn’t appreciate my rationalizing. I got a whack from her left hand and Buddy got a wipe across his face from her right.

The other boys were laughing, throwing insults at Buddy about how he’d gotten shown up by a girl, but he was too worried about not being able to breathe through his nose to hear them.

I watched with a smile as Buddy’s momma grabbed a cloth and ordered him to blow his nose into it. Buddy blew like his brains needed to come out, and eventually he found that he was able to breathe right again, although his momma insisted on getting a good look up his nose to be certain that it was clear of frosting.

The boys loved the picture of Buddy having his nose inspected by his momma, and they couldn’t get enough of the jokes about it.

I got hauled into the house for a scolding and a whipping. I tried telling Momma that thirteen was too old for whippings, but she said if I was acting like a child, I should be punished like one. Every time I got another whack with that wooden spoon, I thought of a new way to make Buddy pay for the walloping. After all, if he hadn’t made fun of my momma, I wouldn’t have made him snort up that cake.

I took my punishment without explaining because I didn’t want to hurt Momma’s feelings by telling her what Buddy had said, and I made my way slowly and sorely back out to the party with revenge in my mind.

Gemma saw the silent tears that I’d been biting my lip to keep from letting out, and she came over to wipe them with her apron.

I smiled at her halfway. “I’m okay. At least I will be once I get back at Buddy.”

“Get back at him? He’s the one who’ll be wantin’ to get back at you.”

“Just let him try. I wouldn’t have gotten that whippin’ if he hadn’t made fun of my momma in the first place.”

“Don’t you go talkin’ like that. He’s already got it in for you, and if you do anythin’ else, he’ll go and do somethin’ awful.”

“I ain’t afraid of him!”

Gemma shook her braided head at me. “You talk tough, but you won’t be so tough if Buddy Pernell hurts you bad.”

I sniffed at her like she was worrying over nothing, but I knew deep down that I could have been asking for trouble by playing with Buddy. Boys with no sense can be dangerous, my momma had told me a few times, but my stubbornness didn’t leave any room for being cautious. I was determined to hold a grudge against Buddy, and that was that. But I could see that Buddy was keeping his eye out for his first chance to get back at me, and I watched him with a little worry in my heart as he and the other boys stood together in whispers.

I tried to pretend I wasn’t nervous, and when Gemma got called into the house, I joined the other girls, who’d gone back to twirling their hair and talking about the boys.

With the boys standing around making plans and the girls standing around watching them, my mother got irritated and told us to find something active to do. “Go on down to the swimmin’ hole. Get some exercise, for land’s sake.”

All of us girls went to my bedroom to put on our swimming suits, but with a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat, I changed slower than them all. Gemma had been right, I figured. I’d be paying, and good, and the perfect place for Buddy to get me would be at the secluded swimming hole.

After I’d changed, I went downstairs to find my momma. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to the swimmin’ hole,” I told her while she was making up another batch of sweet tea.

“It’s hot as hades out there. It’ll do you all good.”

“It’s not that hot.”

Momma stopped scrubbing and looked at me strangely. “Were you in the same air I’ve been in today? It’s thick as molasses.”

“But swimmin’ ain’t no fun.”

“You love swimmin’.”

“Not today, I don’t.”

By now, Momma was curious, and she wiped her hands on her apron before placing them on her hips. “Why don’t you just up and tell me what’s got you so ornery?”

“I ain’t ornery!”

“Don’t argue with me, girl. If I say you’re ornery, then you’re ornery.”

I looked down at my toes and sighed. I couldn’t tell Momma that Buddy had called her fat, and I didn’t want to show her I was afraid, anyway.

“Tell me one reason why you shouldn’t go to the swim-min’ hole.”

I continued staring at my dusty feet and shrugged.

“You don’t know, I guess you’re sayin’. Well, if you ain’t got a reason, you best be headin’ out to that swimmin’ hole. I’m too busy to wonder what’s goin’ on in that silly head of yours.”

I could feel Momma watching me as I scuffed out of the kitchen without another word, letting the screen door slam behind me. I took several steps before glancing back at Momma through the window, where she stood humming some hymn I remembered hearing in church. I took a deep breath. In my dramatic mind, it was as if I were saying a final good-bye. Who knew if I’d come back from that swimming hole alive? Momma would feel pretty bad if I ended up dying, and she’d have to live the rest of her life knowing she’d sent me to my death.

Poor Momma.

Chapter 2

“What’re you doin’, Jessie?” Buddy asked, his sunburnt face painted with amusement. “Not hot enough for ya?”

Oh, it was hot enough; there was no doubt of that. Sweat poured down my forehead in little rivers and my hair had curled into frizzy ringlets, but I would let myself get to boiling point before I’d get in that murky water filled with scheming boys. “It ain’t so hot,” I said indignantly. “When I get hot, I’ll get in.”

“I don’t see why you ain’t gettin’ in now.”

“Well, when has what I do ever been any business of yours?”

I heard a footfall behind me and snapped my head around to see one of the boys sneaking up on me. That was all Buddy needed to yank me feetfirst into the swimming hole. I spluttered once I got my head back above water and kicked my feet like propellers to keep Buddy away from me. By that time, though, the other boys had come to circle around me like sharks.

“That was a rotten trick!” I cried.

“So was what you did to me,” Buddy said. “I ain’t gonna let a girl show me up.”

“You might as well get used to it.”

That was the last thing I said before Buddy dunked me underwater, holding me down by my head. I kicked my feet desperately and tried to rise to the top. I could hear the boys laughing like they were ten miles away. By the time he dragged me back up top, my chest was sore from holding my breath, and I hardly had time to breathe in before he pushed me under again.

The murky water swirled around me. I watched the boys’ feet as they treaded water and tried to grab on to one of those bony legs to pull its owner down with me. But I couldn’t reach. They were pushing it too far this time, keeping me underwater much longer than I could take, and I started to panic.

Finally they dragged me up again. With wide eyes, I watched the sunlight come closer to me as I rose to the top, relief filling me once I broke the surface. My breaths came in loud gasps, and I struggled to see through the water that stung my eyes. Once I caught my breath, I fought hard to free myself from Buddy’s grasp, swimming away the minute I slipped from his fingers.

“She ain’t gettin’ away that easy,” I could hear Buddy yelling behind me.

I swam as fast as I could toward the banks, where the girls stood screaming for me to hurry up. Apparently they were on the boys’ side only until they tried to kill someone.

I was glad they had some conscience.

Ginny Lee, in particular, was scared enough to stand there wringing her hands and crying. “Hurry up, Jessie,” she called. “Swim! Swim!”

I tried as hard as I could, but I was losing ground, I knew. After all that fighting, I was what my momma would call plumb tuckered out. My arms and legs felt like they belonged to someone else, and my head felt like it did after I’d spun in the tire swing for too long. I’d never make it to the girls, so I changed course to climb the mossy rocks that rose out of the south side of the swimming hole. Everyone knew this was the worst way to get out of there—even the boys never did it unless they were dared—but I wanted to get out too bad to care about that.

The sound of the boys’ voices told me they were gaining on me, and I reached up, grabbed hold of the lowest rock, and slithered onto it as best as my rubbery arms would let me. I mounted the second rock with a little extra effort. But just as I thought I’d reached safety, a tug on my leg changed my mind, and I started to slide down the rocks. My fingernails dragged along them in a desperate attempt to hang on, but it was no use. One more tug from a cackling Buddy, and I dropped down those slippery rocks, smacking my head on the last one before I plunged into the water.

That bump on my head made everything go fuzzy, and I dropped below the surface like one of those rocks I’d slipped off of. I could hear muffled voices, and I could hear the voice in my head telling me to swim, but that was all. The rest of me felt sleepy, unable to move anything.

But while I don’t remember much of those seconds in the water, I do remember what happened to get me out. I remember that as clear as a bell. Just as my foot hit the slimy bottom of the swimming hole, I felt someone grab on to the back of my swimming suit, yanking me upward so fast it was like he had a motor attached to him. Once my head popped above water, I sucked in air in a panic, making myself even dizzier.

“Calm down,” said a gasping voice beside me. “Take slower breaths.”

When my rescuer pulled me onto the shore, I flopped down like a dead fish, unable to move. The sunshine on my face warmed me up quick, but I was still shivering and gasping. I could faintly hear the girls crying and screaming about how I looked like I was dead, and even though I felt a bit like I was, I wanted to tell them all to shut up. Their fussing was hurting my ears.

The voice above me spoke again, this time more firmly. “I’m tellin’ you, stop breathin’ so fast. You got to calm down.”

I didn’t know who this person was, and I felt too dizzy to even open my eyes to see, but instead of making me angry like it normally would have, his scolding actually helped me relax. Within another minute, I had stopped hiccuping in air and my strength was returning.

“There you go,” he said. “There’s your color comin’ back. You’re lookin’ better now.”

Finally I felt like I could move again, and I opened my eyes to try to see who had saved me from what I was certain would have been a watery grave. I liked that phrase, “watery grave.” At the beginning of the summer, I’d read a book about a girl whose momma had died from a drowning, and the book had said that the lady “tragically perished in a cold, watery grave.” As sad as I was for the girl, I thought it was pretty dramatic to perish in a watery grave, but I had to admit I was glad I hadn’t just then.

My eyelashes were stuck together with wet, and with the sun shining into my eyes, I could only see what was like little prisms with a shadowy form behind them. “I can’t see. I think I went blind. Everything’s sparkly.”

The man above me reached down and wiped my eyes gently with the back of his hand. “There you go. You’re not blind, just wet.”

I shivered before looking at him more clearly . . . and then I shivered again. I had never understood those silly girls and the boy-watching they did. I was of the mind that boys were nuisances, and I’d go my whole life without one and be happy for it. But as I stared into the suntanned face dripping with the water that had almost killed me, I remembered those books I’d read with the sloppy love talk and suddenly realized what that had been all about.

He was smiling at me, sort of making fun of me for thinking I was blind, but his bright teeth and dark blue eyes kept me from caring. He could make fun of me all he wanted, I figured, and I’d never hate him like I hated those other boys.

His smile turned to a frown when Buddy asked him how I was, and I watched him with childish satisfaction as he scolded the boys for pushing me under. “What’s it to you? You weren’t so worried about her when you were almost drownin’ her. I saw you pullin’ her off those rocks, and you thought it was right funny.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“What’d you think you were gonna do by shovin’ her underwater?”

“It was that bump on her head that made her stay under. I didn’t bump her head on purpose.”

He turned to look at me and asked, “What bump on your head? Where’d you hit it?”

“Right here, I think,” I murmured, lifting my arm that felt like lead to touch the tender spot over my eye where my wet hair lay in a clump. The stinging pain that shot through my head told me I had the right place.

He pushed the hair away and whistled in admiration. “You’ve got a bump to beat the band, all right. It’s bleedin’ like crazy.” Taking part of his wet shirt in two hands, he ripped a strip off and wrapped it around my head like a mummy.

For the first time in my life I was actually embarrassed about how I looked.

“Is she gonna die?” Ginny Lee asked when she saw the blood. “She’s gonna die, ain’t she? You see what you done, Buddy? You killed her!”

My rescuer picked me up in one fell swoop and started to carry me over the muddy ground away from the water. “She ain’t gonna die. But just you come on and tell me where she lives. I’m takin’ her home.”

“Are you gonna tell her daddy what I did?” Buddy asked nervously. “He’ll skin me alive.”

I had found my tongue again in time for that remark, and I answered him before he even finished his question. “Ain’t no way you’re gettin’ away with this, Buddy Pernell.My daddy will tell your daddy, and he’ll wallop you good. And you thought your daddy was mad when you cut my hair last summer. You wait till he hears about this. My daddy will tell him, all right.”

“Just who is your daddy, girl?” the young man asked as he walked.

“Harley Lassiter.”

“The Lassiters down by Rocky Creek?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t go callin’ me sir,” he said with a laugh that came out breathless from hauling me around. “You’ll go makin’ me feel like an old man.”

“Oh, you’re not an old man,” I said hastily.

“You bet your life I ain’t! Now, if you’re a Lassiter, you best be tellin’ me which one you are.”

“Jessilyn,” I said, using my whole name, thinking it would make me sound older.

“Well, Jessilyn, I’m Luke Talley. I expect we’re somethin’ of new neighbors since I just took the old cabin down the road a piece. Sorry we had to meet this way.”

I wasn’t sorry. Being rescued and carried off in strong arms didn’t seem so bad a way to meet someone, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

In the meantime, the rest of the kids had followed us, and although they had quieted down, Buddy had a look of death on his face, no doubt knowing that my daddy would lay into him something good.

And I was looking forward to seeing it.

My momma was the first to spot us. She yelled for my daddy and came running, grabbing my bandaged head in her hands. “What happened? What’s happened to my baby?”

I wanted to tell Luke Talley that I wasn’t a baby, but I didn’t have a chance. Once Momma got a look at my bloodied wound, she started screaming like the sky was falling. “She’s bleedin’. My baby’s bleedin’! Do you see this, Harley?” she asked as my daddy came running from the barn. “Your daughter’s bleedin’ from her head.”

Miss Opal and her husband, Joe, came running out too, looking worried like I was dying or something. “What in tarnation is goin’ on?” Miss Opal cried. “What’s happened to Jessilyn?”

Gemma grabbed Miss Opal’s hand and told her, “I’ll bet those boys hurt Jessie. I knew they’d be up to somethin’.”

Miss Opal ran for supplies and Mr. Joe took a close look at my cut. “I’ll call for the doctor,” he said. “Might need sewin’ up.”

I thought it was an awful lot of fuss over nothing.

Luke set me down on the outside couch, where Momma had ordered him to, and told my parents who he was. “She took a spill on them rocks by the swimmin’ hole,” he said. “Took in a good bit of water too.”

Gemma knelt at my side, her hands shaking.

“The boys dunked me. I almost drowned,” I told her before adding in almost a whisper, “He saved me.”

“She almost drowned,” Momma muttered as she got to dressing my wound. “Thank You, dear Jesus in heaven, for bringin’ my baby home.” She patted my sore head with a wet cloth, leaning close to me to inspect the wound.

“I told you not to fool with those boys,” Gemma scolded. “I told you they’d dunk you, and they did, didn’t they? You best listen to me from now on.”

Gemma’s words sparked an extra bit of anger in my momma, and she stopped all her fussing over me to turn and glare at the boys. “Which one of you did it?” Momma asked in a shaky voice. “Which one of you roughnecks hurt my baby?”

“Momma,” I whined, “I ain’t no baby.”

Momma ignored me and kept staring at the boys. “I’m askin’ you a question. Which one of you hurt my baby girl?”

I wasn’t going to say a word because I didn’t want to be known for a tattletale, but it didn’t matter because I knew my daddy would figure it out. He had a sixth sense about those things. And Buddy’s guilty face and the hard gulp he made when Daddy fixed his eyes on him made it pretty clear to anyone that he’d done it.

“Buddy Pernell,” my daddy said in his mild-mannered way, “you do this to Jessilyn?”

“He did,” Ginny Lee said before Buddy had a chance to speak. “He did, and he was laughin’ too.”

Even though she was mad as a hornet, Momma went back to dressing my cut, leaving my daddy to take care of things like she knew he would. I watched, wincing every time Momma touched my head, and saw my daddy take Buddy by the neck almost like a new puppy and push him toward his daddy, who stood there with a hand on his belt as though he was ready to whip it off and take it to Buddy’s backside any second.